A New Beginning
by youreapainteryoureabaker
Summary: He eyes me carefully, and then hugs me so tightly, I feel as though I am the only person keeping him alive. I start to believe that I am. Katniss and Peeta pick up the pieces from the war. My own re-telling of the final pages of Mockingjay and up until the Epilogue. Follow please! Reviews are greatly appreciated. :)
1. Chapter 1

Mutts. Mutts all around me, in every line of direction.

Above me, I see dark, feral and ferocious looking wolves, all too human-like in their stance, with the eyes of fallen tributes. I see Glimmer's green eyes, long fangs and teeth bared. My heart breaks as I look over and see a tiny wolf, resembling Rue. I look down and see white lizards hissing my name, trying to reach my feet and do the one task they were designed to do- kill me. But this isn't what gets me. I look forward for all of a split second and see Peeta, in a hijacking-induced fit of rage, running towards me, ready to kill, and then the Rue wolf jumps onto him and snaps his neck in an unnatural fashion and I wake up screaming.

I don't move for a long time. I'm not sure I blink much, either. All I can think about is Peeta being killed in my nightmare and my little sister being turned into a torch. After what seems like ages, I look over to the window and see that it's almost evening, and I've spent the entire day in bed. I wake up, feeling achy, and walk into the bathroom and close the door. The girl in the mirror isn't what I expected to see looking back at me.

She looks gaunt, disturbed, thin, and patchy with new, frail skin. Her hair is quite matted. I frown a little bit at this, and turn the faucet on and then splash cold water on my face and I feel my skin tighten just a little at the temperature difference. I brush out what's left of my hair, braid it down my back, and then walk downstairs.

Greasy Sae has been in here today, I can tell from the lingering smell of cooked meat. I look into the refrigerator and find a plate of lamb chops with a sweet mint sauce, rosemary roasted potatoes and some buttered fiddlehead ferns that I found in the woods the other day. Theres a note on the plate.

Put in the oven for a few minutes and enjoy

See you tomorrow,

Sae

My heart turns a little at her thoughtfulness. She has been in my house every day, cooking and cleaning while I waste away in my sorrows. I owe her more than a simple thank you, that's for sure. I quickly turn on the oven and let it heat up before putting the plate of food in, watching it close to make sure it doesn't crack or burn. I carefully remove the plate and inhale the food, realizing exactly how hungry I've been all day. I make a mental note in my head to eat a little more. I don't enjoy having that gaunt girl in the mirror stare back at me.

After eating I look out the window from the kitchen and see that Peeta's houselights are on, and I vaguely wonder what he's up to. Probably painting, baking or decorating something. I open the window a bit, only to let the harmonizing smell of cinnamon and dill into the kitchen. I find myself being flooded with memories of better times, on the train to the Capitol for the Quarter Quell where his arms were my solace. Peeta was the glue that kept me from falling apart.

I'm lost in thought for so long that I didn't notice the knocking on the door, and when I hurry over to open it, I see Peeta walking away from my house. Even though his back is turned to me I can feel the sadness emanating from his being.

"Wait!" I yell to him.

He turns and looks at me, clearly surprised I answered the door. "I was just coming to see how you were doing. I stopped by earlier and there was no answer, so I figured you didn't want to be bothered," he says, faltering a little towards the end.

I stare at him for a moment, and then speak. "Sorry, I had some bad nightmares last night and I didn't want to talk to anyone," I say.

He looks at me again, even in the evening light I can see his blue eyes. This statement probably hurt him a little, I realize all too slowly, because before I know it, he's walking back to his house with a quicker pace.

"Peeta!" I say, following him to his house.

When he reaches the steps, he turns around to me and gives me a look that plays on the edge of sadness and anger. I run up to him and catch his arm, gripping to it like he is the only thing I have left, because if I were to be honest, he is.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

His muscles relax a bit and he turns around to face me, his features returning to normal.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't get so worked up when you want to be alone," he says sullenly.

I consider this. Peeta was my safe haven during those days on the train. I put myself in his shoes for a moment, trying to imagine if I were in his place, constantly being shot down by the one I love. I look up into his eyes, which are swimming in hurt and confusion, and in constant fear of another flashback. The horrific image of him running towards me in my dream last night floats to the top of my head, but I push it away. This can't keep going on, because it isn't fair to Peeta or I to continue on not knowing what it is that keeps us together in this way. I do get a little lonely at night in that big house by myself.

"Come over," I say.

The features on his face transform into happiness and relief, and he smiles a little and nods his head. We begin to walk back to my house, when I sense him tense up a little.

"Wait," he says.

I turn around and see him run into his house, and I hear some rummaging in the kitchen, and he walks out with a container. As he nears I can smell melted cheese and bread. Cheese buns.

"Those are my favorite," I say, feeling my mouth begin to salivate a little.

"I know," he says and smirks and we walk over to my house.

We sit down at the kitchen table with the cheese buns, I take one and begin to nibble at it, savoring every tiny bite. He added dill into them this time, which made them even more special. I avert my attention upward to see him looking directly at me, a smile tugging on his face as he watches me appreciate his creations. I begin to stare back as well, and feel a reluctant smile begin to form on my face. He looks so torn up, damaged, his skin is as blotchy and uneven as mine from the fire in front of President Snow's mansion. I don't think I realized exactly how much I have missed Peeta Mellark until this very moment, and I begin to feel that thing again.

"I missed you," I say quietly.

Peeta begins to blush brightly like a freshly picked strawberry, "I missed you too, Katniss," he says.

I stand up to walk into the living room, and motion for him to follow me, as I make my way over to the couch. The fire is bright and warm, reminding me of better times. I sit down, and he soon follows. I nuzzle myself next to him, feeling his warmth on my side, when an idea comes to mind. I start to remember the plant book, with detailed sketches or paintings made by Peeta, and as detailed of a description as I could write about it.

"Peeta, remember the plant book we made, right? I think we make something similar, but for the people we lost in the war," I say carefully.

He looks over to me in astonishment, and for a moment I begin to think my idea was crazy, when he suddenly turns, places both of his hands on either side of my face and kisses me with such an intense passion that I forgot how to breathe. He then slowly removes his lips from mine and looks me straight in the eyes.

"You are brilliant," he says with a bright smile.

I smile brightly as well, and then cuddle up against him again. The fire has begun to make me feel sleepy, and Peeta seems to be dozing off as well. Before the sleep washes over my consciousness, I utter a few words to him.

"Stay with me," I whisper.

"Always," he says.


	2. Chapter 2

I awake with a start, but I am not in my living room as I was when I fell asleep. No, I am in the arena- a bright pink sky, water surrounding me, yet in Peeta's arms on the shore.

We had fallen asleep together on the beach. I smile a little and nudge him awake, and when he comes to, he smiles at me as well. His hair is matted and wet with sweat, sand and blood. I look over to see Finnick, sitting on the beach watching the waves lap up onto the shore. I get on my feet and walk over to him and place my hand on his shoulder when I hear it. The horrifying sound of human flesh being torn apart on impact turns me around and I see Peeta being ravaged by monkey mutations, only his screams are muted and I can't help him because my body won't move. I watch helplessly as he is mutilated. Sobs and screams overcome my being, and I avert my eyes to Finnick, who is now also a mutt, and the last thing I hear is Prim's scream.

I must have woken up screaming again because when I look up at Peeta this time, panic is written all over his features. I sit up quickly and realize that I'm trembling, and tears begin to uncontrollably pool in my eyes and fall down my cheeks. He pulls me close in a hug, whispering sweet nothings and promises for a better tomorrow, and I begin to calm down.

"This is why I missed you," I stammer out after wiping my nose with my hand.

Peeta smiles and sits me down, wanders over to the kitchen and begins to cook something for breakfast. By the smell of it, I can tell it has something to do with blackberry muffins, bacon and tea. Buttercup has taken notice as well, as he waltzes his way over to Peeta and begins rubbing on his legs. I feel my stomach grumble in anticipation.

After breakfast, I walked up the stairs to my bedroom, opened up my closet and found my father's old hunting jacket and game bag. I need to hunt, I need the release, I need to be one with the woods again after my horrific dreams the last few nights. I go back downstairs to see Peeta cleaning up from our meal, and I feel this strange tugging on my heart strings.

"Thank you for breakfast, it was delicious," I say.

"It was nothing," he says with a warm smile.

"What are you doing today?" I ask.

"I was thinking about painting some, I haven't done much lately. You- you inspired me," he stammers out.

A shy smile is my response, I tell him I'm off to the woods and that I'll see him later on for dinner. I walk to the woods now, I don't feel the need to run like my life depends on it anymore. In all reality, no person in District Twelve can tell me where I can and can't go, the government that rules Panem now is much less strict, and that is an understatement. A nation that doesn't pawn off its children in an effort to solve its differences is a good nation to me.

On my way, I pass by Haymitch, who is sitting on his front porch with a bottle of white liquor in his hand, seeming quite delirious. He notices me and waves.

"Well look what the cat dragged out!" he yells.

"Be lucky I don't start hunting your geese!" I yell back at him, and keep walking with a smirk.

I walk through a part of the Seam, and pass by my old house- the one where I was raised, where my mother, Prim, my father and I once lived in happiness. My stomach begins to turn, my pace quickens and I start running for the solace of my woods. I start looking for the large chain-link fence, when I happily discover that there isn't one. My happiness is short lived though, because I see large machines digging in the Meadow, a large pit, so I walk a bit closer. There are bones- human bones- in this pit. I take a step back as what I'm witnessing hits me with such a force that I can't control the scream that begins to escape my lips. This is a grave. I turn and sprint for the woods.

When I reach the hollow log that contains my father's bow and arrows, I begin sobbing. Today has barely begun, and I have already screamed and cried more than anyone should in a year. I sit down on the log for a moment to regain myself, and begin reciting my lines.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. District twelve is my home. I was in the Hunger Games. I was in the Quarter Quell. I am the Mockingjay. I was in a war. The war is over. I am home.

I stand up and begin trekking further into the arms of my beloved woods. This is my favorite time of year, in the early spring when life begins to blossom and awaken from the stillness of winter. All around me I can hear the sounds of squirrels climbing trees, tiny baby birds chirping for their mothers, honey bees buzzing. I keep my tread quiet in the hopes of spotting something for dinner- I'm sure Greasy Sae is dying for some fresh game.

I begin to think of Peeta, the way his presence has been making my heart ache and churn in all sorts of ways I never thought possible. His excitement over my book idea made me feel good about it, that maybe this would be a way for us to heal together. I also have to admit to myself that spending another night in his arms would be nice; admittedly I am looking forward to it.

After a few minutes of quiet treading, I scurry up into a large oak tree and perch myself on a sturdy branch, arrow at the ready for any unsuspecting prey. I look down and see a fawn that probably had gotten lost from its mother- in other words, dinner. There won't be much meat, but it's better than coming back empty-handed. I raise my bow and pull the string back, aim for the jugular and shoot. The fawn collapses onto the ground and I climb down the tree, then run over to remove the arrow as nature takes its course, making it a point to not look. It doesn't take long, and so I stuff the small deer inside my game bag, sling it over my shoulders and begin walking uphill back home. The sun has moved west in the cloudless sky, indicating late afternoon.

I get into town and walk by the Hob. It has been rebuilt, even though it's not considered our black market anymore- the name still holds true. I guess I'm not the only one that holds near and dear to the way District Twelve used to be. Sometimes I do miss the thrill of illegally hunting in the woods with Gale and bringing back game, fresh fruits and vegetables to trade with the merchants all over town. But those days are gone now, I remind myself as Gale's face begins to take over my thoughts. I push them away as soon as they appear, he doesn't belong there anymore.

As I walk into Victor's Village I see Greasy Sae make her way up the stairs to my house, and I follow close behind, greeting her as I approach. The last thing I want to do is scare her, I don't need another person dying on my watch. Come to find out, she is pleasantly surprised by my findings in the woods. I bet she needed a creative outlet with her cooking as much as I needed to be surrounded by trees today. I walk outside and begin skinning and gutting the animal so we can all feast on stew tonight. Maybe I'll invite Haymitch over, provided he isn't blacked out already.

I walk over to Peeta's house afterwards and am hit with the smell of sweet cinnamon and butter. My mouth begins to water a little as I walk further into his house and look for him. I call out his name once and announce my catch in the woods, but get no response. Something doesn't feel right. On the kitchen counter are fresh hot cinnamon buns and bread rolls. I walk over to grab one, for testing's sake, when I feel a hand grab my wrist so tight that it may as well shatter with the force. I look into Peeta's eyes and am greeted by that cloudy look they attain when he's having a flashback.

"Stinking mutt," he growls at me and I drop the roll from my hand onto the floor.

"Peeta," I begin calmly. "Peeta, look at me," I wince as the pain in my wrist starts to intensify. "I am not here to hurt you. I'm here, Peeta. I won't ever hurt you," it doesn't help- he only gets worse.

"You killed everyone I love! Stupid mutt!," he spits at me and grabs my other wrist with the same force as before.

"Not real! Not real!" I begin to yell at him. My words come out uncontrollably. "Whatever you see isn't real! It's not real! I'm here, and I love you," I'm as shocked as he is because as soon as the words slip from my mouth he stops, drops my hands, his eyes clear instantaneously, but holds his gaze. I don't think his eyes have ever been this blue before.

He shakes his head, and then eyes me up and down for a moment as the realization of what he had just done must have hit him full force. He begins apologizing profusely, and I tell him that it's okay. Well, to my left wrist it isn't okay, I'm sure it's sprained badly. He hurries me over to the kitchen sink and runs cool water on my wrist because it's already starting to swell. He brings over bandages and has me sit down at the kitchen table so he can wrap me up. I watch him as he sits next to me, still panicked from his episode. This time, it's me who is shaking my head.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss, I had no control over that," he says. He sounds like someone has burned him.

"Peeta," I say sternly. "It's okay; I expected it to happen sooner or later. Besides, I'll be fine in a few weeks," I say with a smile and point to my wrist. My heart drops a little when I realize that I won't be able to hunt in that time.

He eyes me carefully, and then hugs me so tightly, I feel as though I am the only person keeping him alive. I start to believe that I am.

"Katniss," he begins, and I can tell he's being particular with his words. I feel my heart begin to race.

"Yes?" I say.

"Are you ready for Sae's venison stew tonight?" he says, a smile tugging on his lips.

I play hit him on the arm with my good hand and laugh aloud, and he laughs along with me. We stand up and Peeta grabs the delicious things he baked today from the counter. Still laughing, I make my way down the stairs and Peeta and I walk hand-in-hand over to my house.


	3. Chapter 3

The days pass by with ease. No longer do I have to worry that tomorrow won't ever come. But the thought still lingers in the back of my head.

Haymitch has become more friendly, well, as friendly as he could ever be. He comes over to my house for tea or a meal, to which Greasy Sae happily obliges. Alcohol perfumes his being, but I've become so used to it that I don't mind much anymore. He knows I owe him more than my life, and will never stop.

I spend my days with Peeta. They are days well spent, days where we can relate to one another, share our deepest secrets, laugh and grow together again. He hardly goes to his house anymore. We work on the book as a team, along with anyone else who wants to memorialize a lost loved one. Pages begin to fill up with details that would be criminal not to mention. The way Prim was like my mother in her healing abilities, Rue singing to the mockingjays in the trees, Finnick's ability to handle a trident, Madge's helpful hand. There are days where writing about their lives are hard and it's all I can do not to cry. Most days are alright, but never easy.

One day, I'm able to get Peeta to come to the woods with me, knowing the way he walks I won't be bringing my bow along. We sit by the lake that my father took me to when I was young, the sky is bright and the grass hasn't been this green in ages. Peeta seems to be comfortable here, I watch as he slowly relaxes and takes in the scenery before him, the cool breeze and sweet smell in the air. His curls reflect the sunlight in a million shades of blonde.

"This is nice," I say, closing my eyes and feeling the wind. I open them and look over to Peeta, who is still staring out at the lake. I take his silence as agreement.

After a while, he speaks but I'm not ready for what he has to say.

"I don't think it's ever really hit me that everyone is gone. I keep thinking to myself that my brother or my father is going to walk in the door, that I'll see the bakery still standing, that I'll never feel normal again," he shoves his face into his hands for a moment and then looks at me. "Katniss I don't know what to do. I have you, Haymitch, Greasy Sae, but that's it! I'm not even me anymore!" he says as a lone tear streams down his right cheek. I move over next to him and take his hand in mine.

I stare at him for a few moments, taking in his features, the way his blue eyes are glistening with tears that want to flow, his long eyelashes, his lips pursed together.

"I know how you feel," I say under my breath and I know that he hears me. He looks up at me and manages a slight smile, and all I can think of is how gracious he is. I stand up, brush off my pants and offer my hand to Peeta.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"You'll see. I think we both need this," I say.

We walk hand in hand through the woods, and for the first time I find that I don't mind his loud footsteps- they're amusing. Each time he steps on a twig or stomps down on a pile of dried leaves I giggle a bit. And each time that I do he squeezes my hand, as if he controls the beats of my heart.

This continues all the way to the grave site I saw a number of days ago. We stop at the edge where the compact earth meets freshly shoveled dirt. They have finished the grave. Not only finished it, but to the credit of the people of District 12, flowers have been planted all throughout the gravesite. I'm shocked as I look out at the sea of color, representing all the lives that were lost. There is a good feeling behind this; the feeling of knowing that life will regenerate itself no matter what. No matter how bad our losses, beauty will shine in the darkness. I grasp Peeta's hand more tightly now, and look to my right at his reaction.

The tears are silently streaming down his face. He's trying to keep it together, that much is obvious. I give his hand a light squeeze and let go, knowing he would rather mourn in private, and walk into the meadow of flowers. I'm walking for what seems like hours when I come upon a small bush of primroses. All I see is Prim's face, her sweetness and all that she was- and still is. Peeta comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my back.

"We lost a lot of people here," I choke out.

"We did. But they'll always be with us," he says, his voice still fresh from crying.

I grab his hand and we walk back to the Victor's Village. I'd be lying if I said it didn't help to hear Peeta's struggles with this. Sometimes it's nice to know you're not the only one suffering.

We feast with Haymitch and Greasy Sae and her granddaughter. Roasted pheasant, dandelion greens, potatoes and a new walnut bread that Peeta is experimenting with. He says the ratio of walnuts to actual bread needs some working on.

As Greasy Sae cleans up, Haymitch, Peeta and I all head to the front room with the book. I open it, examine the pages we've already filled, and then hand it over to Haymitch. He looks through it for a while, smiling at a few pages, grunting and frowning at others. I look over at Peeta for a moment, and see that he's watching Haymitch as well. I guess this book means as much to him as it does to me.

"Well, sweetheart, looks like you've got a good thing going on here," Haymitch says almost meaningfully.

"It's just as much your book as it is ours," Peeta begins, "we want to know if you'd like to add some of your own memorials."

Haymitch's face concentrates for a moment, and then he nods. By the looks of it, he doesn't want to do it. But I know him and I know that he's aware it needs to be done.

So we begin to listen to him tell us about the 23 years worth of tributes he was forced to mentor and watch die in the Games. As the stories go on, my hand begins to cramp, but I'm amazed at what he has to say. The hardest person to write about was a 13 year old girl from the Seam during the 56th Games, who so desperately wanted to make it back to her family of 3 brothers and a younger sister. She never did get the chance to see them again, because she went into the bloodbath that is the Cornucopia during the first few minutes of the Games. No one knows where her left hand went.

Peeta's drawings come together harmoniously with my descriptions. Before any of us knows it, morning light is peeking into the room and I look over to see a semi-awake Haymitch, and Peeta dozing off. I close the book at put in on the table next to my chair. I nudge Haymitch awake and see him out of the house and watch out the front door to make sure he makes it to his house without stumbling or falling over. I close the door, turn around and see Peeta falling asleep in his chair. I walk over to him, grab his hand and lead him up to the bedroom.

I lay on his chest, feeling secure with his arms wrapped around me. His breathing becomes slower and steadier. The sound of his heart beating is something I will never take for granted again. I begin to think, that this moment, right here, would have happened anyway. Gale comes to mind, and as soon as he does, I know that I've found where I belong. Right here in Peeta's arms, because only his arms can provide the solace and security I need. What I need to survive is the promise that life can go on, and be good again. I realize that only Peeta has been able to give me that.

"Katniss," I hear him whisper. I look up at him.

"Remember a few days ago, when I was having a flashback, and you said that you loved me?" he asks carefully.

"I remember," I say quietly, feeling my heart begin to race.

"So you love me, real or not real?" he whispers.

"Real," I whisper back.


	4. Chapter 4

The wind is heavy with moisture today and the summer sun is beating down relentlessly. I had to forgo my father's hunting jacket so I won't pass out while in the woods. Instead I wear a dark long sleeve shirt, to ensure I blend in. The animals are scurrying around more today; I guess I'm not the only one loathing this heat. I look up to my left and see a fat squirrel climbing up a tree; I aim my arrow and release. It falls to the ground with an arrow lodged in its neck, dead. I remove the arrow, stuff him into my game bag and head to the lake.

Judging by the heat, a swim would be nice. I strip off all of my clothes and inch my way into the cool water as goose bumps crawl up my body. I make my way to the middle of the lake and float on my back. I look up to the sky, and my mind begins to wander. For some reason the silence is becoming unnerving.

Peeta. What have I done to deserve him? Long gone are the days during our first Games where I was surely convinced he was set on my death. Now I know that's the last thing he would ever want. It's funny the way things came to be. He was right all along, his name being picked out of that glass ball in the Reaping almost two years ago was a real bit of luck. A world where Peeta doesn't exist isn't a complete world to me.

I do love Peeta, even if I hadn't been aware of it before, I surely am now. I think I have loved him for a long time but had been so blinded by more important things, like trying to keep him alive during the Quarter Quell and the War between the Capitol and District 13. Gale seemed so right for me for so long, but his hatred and fury and disregard for human life was surely one of the things that lead to my sister dying, even if he hadn't killed her himself. I was right in my decision. He was right, too. I'll never be able to shake the connection between his parachutes and Prim being turned into a torch.

There are a few more things that Gale represents- fire, anger, hatred, rage. I have plenty of all those on my own, and I can't have someone who is the same. What would that bring? Surely nothing good for reconstructing this damaged world. Peeta counteracts those qualities of mine, tames them, making for a harmonious partnership. But what exactly is Peeta to me? My boyfriend? I've never had one of those before. What do you do with them, hold hands and kiss and announce your love to the world? After a public love affair in front of all of Panem, it seems silly in comparison. I know he will be more than willing to go along with my pace of things.

Wait, what was that?

Something is not right, and my instincts are screaming at me to flee. I get off my back and look over to where I left my belongings. It's hard to miss the huge black bear rummaging through my game bag.

It's not the first time I've run into a bear. I'm at a clear disadvantage, my clothes, game bag and my bow and arrows are not at my side- and I'm naked. There's another thought that comes to mind- if I kill this bear and somehow find a way to get it into town, it will feed most, if not all of the District for a few days. I have to think fast because it catches sight of me and starts walking over, getting its front paws in the water.

There are a few fish that swim in the lake; I have felt a few swim by my feet even today. I hold my breath and dive under the water, finding a fairly decent sized bass on the muddy bottom, I grab it and come to the surface. I hold the fish tight enough that I feel my hand crush whatever skeletal structure it has, and throw it a good 30 yards towards the end of the lake. The bear catches sight of the fish and runs after it, and I swim myself to shore just like how I did in the Quarter Quell- there's no time to waste. I act or get mauled to death.

I am throwing on my pants and boots while watching, trying my hardest to suppress the panic settling within my chest. The bear eats the fish in a matter of seconds and then turns to me again. This time it runs. I'm as stealthy as I can be, grabbing my bow and releasing arrows at random, each hitting the bear. But it doesn't back down, it only gets angrier and begins moving faster. I release another arrow, this time it hits it in the eye. The animal whines and is obviously blinded, but something bizarre happens. It rests for a minute and then runs again, faster than before, clearly angered, but I've already sprinted into the mouth of the woods.

I find a tree that couldn't possibly support a large bear, but will support me for a matter of minutes. I climb up in the nick of time though, because as soon as I reach the last sturdy branch the bear is at the bottom, and already trying to figure out its way up. I'm winded at this point, so I allow myself all of twenty seconds to rest and throw on my sodden shirt. Standing between the 'V' that two branches have formed within the tree, I load my bow again but I've only got two arrows left. The rest are sticking out of the bear. How can it keep moving? I've got to make these last two count, because if I don't, I'll surely be turned into a bloody pulp.

I aim my arrow for the animal's other eye, and release. It has already made its way a few feet up the tree, and when my arrow hits the other eye it falls back and hits the ground. Now that the bear has been completely blinded, do I dare go down the tree and finish him off? At this point, not doing so would be cruel, and I've got people to feed. I grab the knife I keep on my being at all times from the holster in my pants, and jump. Once I get onto the ground I look down at the suffering animal, trying not to feel bad about what I'm doing. I take my knife and slit its throat, this time it doesn't whimper or cry out. It simply bleeds to death, as though welcoming the concept. Within a few moments it ceases to move.

My muscles relax now and I sink to the ground for a moment, because I'm worn out, and because I'm covered in a layer of filth, splattered blood, water and sweat. I wipe off my face and gather my things, and run to the District's meat shop. I tell the owner, a middle aged man with thinning hair and a warm smile named Kelvin about my kill. He knows I won't be able to bring the bear up, so he sends all of his workers to retrieve the beast. I tell them where it is, because it's not too far into the woods where the bear is. I apologize for my arrows in advance and give him the squirrel I shot as well. After, I make my way over to my house in the Victor's Village.

I walk into my house and drop my game bag and bow on the floor, not really caring where they fall. They'll be fine. Making my way into the kitchen I see Peeta, who before I walked in was working on his walnut bread and by the smell of things, had just finished a batch of cheese buns. Once he catches sight of me he runs over and grabs my arms, looking me sternly in the eyes.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt? You look awful, Katniss," he says, his tone lessening in harshness as he finishes his sentence.

"Never better," I say sarcastically and smile at him. I do have to admit, his concern is adorable.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asks me.

My stomach has been growling for a while but I had just taken notice with his words. I nod my head eagerly. He fills up a plate of cheese buns with dill and roasted duck and hands it to me; it's gone before I take another breath.

With a full belly, I walk over to Peeta and give him a genuine hug, making sure to linger a bit. His arms wrap around me. He smells like home. Although I'm visibly disgusting at the moment to anyone with a brain, he kisses my cheek and I feel myself flush. Only he doesn't stop there. He grazes his lips from that spot, down to the corner of my jaw and just onto my neck. His breath is electrifying and I can't contain the slight groan that escapes my lips and the way I hold onto him just a bit tighter than before. But I can't let this go any further, not now, at least. I do my best to move my head and remove myself from this trance, and look up into his eyes. They've turned into a pool of blue, the purest blue you could think of. Like the sky on a clear spring afternoon, or the sea after the waves have calmed down. I reach up to his lips on my toes and kiss him once gently.

"I need to shower," I say, feeling my skin start to crawl with disgust.

"Alright," he says, pecking me on the cheek again.

I take a cool shower, making sure to stay in a bit longer than usual. I wash the layer of sweat and grime from my skin and feel relieved as soon as I do. I can't help but think that today has been very successful, in terms of the cards I was dealt. Battling an animal isn't the same as a human. Death is still something I have a hard time dealing with, but after watching hundreds of thousands of people die during the last two years- who could blame me? I even have a hard time killing spiders now. But I can't forget my place here, can't forget where I fit in. This is what I'm supposed to do. To hunt. People count on me for my findings in the woods.

I dry myself off, leaving my hair to air dry. I dress, and then go downstairs to the kitchen, where Peeta has finally finished his bread.

I don't know what comes over me, but before I can control the words coming out of my mouth, they've already found their way out.

"Teach me how to bake," I say.

He looks at me with astonishment. "Really?"

"Yes, really; what if you're gone one day and I want to make cheese buns?" I say playfully.

He gladly shows me anything I want to know. But I tell him that I want to watch him make the cheese buns. I become entranced at watching him grate the cheese- he says it's called Cheddar. I don't really care what it is; all I know is that it's delicious. He has me pick the dill leaves while he weighs out the flour, yeast and water, showing me how to use the scale and the careful hand needed to mix all of the ingredients. He tells me if I over mix them, the bread will be heavy and dense. After mixing, proofing, kneading, cutting small portions off and weighing each on the scale, he places them all on a tray to be baked. Lastly, he has me put a pinch of cheese and a little dill on each one, and he puts them in the oven.

"That is entirely too tedious for me," I say, feeling mentally exhausted.

"That's why I do the baking around here," he says with a smile.

I'm so happy, learning what Peeta loves to do, and at least giving it a shot. I don't think I'll be baking anymore. I'll gladly stick to hunting.

That evening we sit on the couch eating cheese buns and drinking herbal iced tea. I watch as Peeta sketches the meadow we came across a few days ago. But before I know it I'm dozing off, the events of the day have taken their toll on me. I come to for a moment, realizing that Peeta is carrying me up the stairs to the bedroom, and nuzzle into his chest.

I sleep without any nightmares.


	5. Chapter 5

The weeks are starting to pass quickly. Each day I become more comfortable with Peeta's touch, and soon find that his arms aren't the only thing to comfort me from my nightmares- his lips are, too. That hunger I felt in the cave during our first games has made an appearance often, and each time it does, it grows in intensity. I'd be lying if I said I didn't crave his presence when he's gone or when I'm alone in the woods.

Life in the District has improved dramatically from where it once was. The town square is full of life, buildings and shops have been restored. Now, instead of making my own clothes or relying on hand me downs, I could go into a clothing store and buy a shirt or a pair of pants if I needed them. The Hob is still as busy as ever and no longer holds an ominous feel. Business is being restored, and by the looks of it, life as well. After all, it's been almost a year since the bombing. I could never have imagined life would be this good after it had been so bleak. I've noticed many women with swollen bellies walking about town, and I can't help but think that this is a good thing- for them. Never for me.

Haymitch has become very good pals with the wine store owner, no surprise there. Sometimes he brings us a bottle to have with dinner, to which Peeta never has any. I always manage to steal a few sips from Haymitch's glass. Greasy Sae is wonderful as always, her company is always savored. She and I have come to the agreement that I am better able to take care of myself now, but that we still enjoy one another's company. And so every weekend night she comes over and we cook, watch Peeta bake, and reminisce on old times from the Hob.

One cool night in early September, Peeta and I lay on the bed, half asleep and full from a wonderful meal. I begin to doze off with my head on his chest when he begins shaking. He quickly gets up off the bed and starts shouting at me, spitting with his words, screaming obscenities.

"You stinking mutt get away from me! What are you doing here? I thought the Capitol would have killed you off by now!" he screams, climbs on the bed before I have any time to react and his hands find my throat. Real or not real? I am probably going to die if I can't stop this.

"Peeta! PEETA!" I scream through my constricted airway. "Not real, not real, NOT REAL!"

My airway is slowly being crushed, and in an act of desperation, I start to sing. As strained as it may be, it's all I can do. He's got my limbs pinned down and is showing no sign of stopping. I look straight into his mad, clouded eyes and maintain the contact.

"De-eep in t-the meadow, u-under the willo-ow,

A b-bed of grass, a s-soft gr-reen pillow.

L-lay down your h-head, and cl-close your sleepy…"

"What are you doing?" he asks, clearly confused. He lessens his grip on my neck and I inhale, but don't dare move. Not yet.

"It's not real, Peeta, whatever you see isn't real," I say, in the most soothing voice I can manage.

"How?" he says, still strained, but slowly slipping out of it.

"What do you see?" I ask calmly.

"You killed my family, they're all gone!" he growls, almost shouting now.

This time it's me who moves. I get to my knees on the bed; grab his face between my hands.

"It's not real; the Capitol fabricated those things to make you hate me. Your family died in the bombing last year. I am here, with you, right now. We are in District 12," I say, still maintaining eye contact.

His body starts shuddering, and his eyes begin to clear. The confused expression on his face lingers for a few moments longer, and then he's returned back to me.

Not yet convinced, I maintain my hold. "Stay with me, don't let them take you away from me," I say fiercely.

"Always," he says under his breath and the reality of what has just happened must've hit him square in the chest. His hands find my neck again, but this time it's in soothing motions, and he begins apologizing profusely. I stand up to look in the mirror, but he blocks my view.

"I'm so sorry," he says, searching my eyes. I nudge him out of the way and look at my neck. It's bruised, all around from front to back. There are clear indentations where his fingers were, and they're spreading. I turn around to him.

"What triggered it?" I ask.

"I don't know. I began to fall asleep and started thinking about, well, you, and then some shiny memory came into my view. Something about my family screaming, and now here I am," he says quietly.

"I haven't had a flashback in ages! I don't know when they'll come; all I know is that when they do, I always end up hurting you! But I'm never aware of it," he says, and this time he sits down on the bed and buries his face in his hands, clearly frustrated.

I sit down next to him and place my hand on his back. "Maybe you should call Dr. Aurelius?" I suggest.

"That may not be a bad idea," he says weakly. I take his hand in mine and squeeze it a little for reassurance.

Later that day, he calls Dr. Aurelius and has a somewhat lengthy conversation with him over the phone. I sit nearby, just in case, while fashioning myself some new arrows. Once Peeta hangs up the phone, there's a moment of silence that I can't quite put my finger on, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach sure can. I walk over to where he sits at the kitchen table, sit down next to him, and eye him for a moment.

"I have to go to the Capitol for some therapy," he says quietly.

I let this sink in for a moment. I never would have guessed we would ever return to that place. My immediate reaction is to take him and run far off somewhere where no one can hurt him. But then, wouldn't he hurt me again if he had another flashback? I can't risk that.

"Then I'm going with you," I say.

He smiles up at me, and grabs one of my hands under the table. "I'd love that, you know. Think of it this way, wouldn't it be interesting to see how it's transformed?" he always knows how to make the best of things.

"I'm worried about going back," I say.

In all reality, going back to the Capitol would mean more publicity than either of us really wants. Would it be worth it, going back to the place that controlled every aspect of my life for seventeen years? Would people want to know the latest on the Mockingjay? I swallow hard and brace myself. This visit is for Peeta's health, for him to get better. Surely he would do the same for me. He contacts Effie Trinket, who upon finding out about our brief return is more excited than I would've expected. She tells him there will be a 'big, big, big surprise!' when we arrive. What other surprises could lurk around the Capitol?

The next day, we get aboard the train and head for the Capitol. By the way things seem, we should be there by morning. It's funny though, being on this train again. Nothing is the way it was before. There are train attendants and conductors, but it's no longer lavish and overly done like the last time I was on it, headed for the Quell. We find the room we've been assigned to for the ride and settle in the room. We sit on the tiny couch and watch a few programs, nothing of interest. Just as Peeta is getting ready to turn off the television, a news announcement comes on.

It's a lady in a bright green suit, smoothed blonde hair and bright pink lipstick. I guess the strange fashion in the Capitol hasn't died out yet.

"Two days from now, in the efforts to rebuild our country, President Paylor will be holding a ceremony in honor of those who died in every Hunger Games. In tribute, there will be a televised implosion of the very first arena ever built over 75 years ago. Tune in at 7 for more on this pivotal event," the lady smiles brightly and then the screen cuts to a commercial.

"Peeta," I say under my voice.

He looks at me, and I can tell our expressions must be mirroring one another's.

"That woman just said that the first arena is going to be destroyed, real or not real?" I ask.

"Real. They're actually doing this, Katniss…" he says and then embraces me so tightly that I feel my ribcage tighten a bit, but I welcome it. Because he's happy. And because I'm so in shock at what is about to take place in the Capitol that I start crying tears of joy into Peeta's shirt. Eventually his lips find their way to my own, laced with tears and random laughs of happiness. But then the kisses grow longer, each one more intense than the last. Soon we find ourselves lying on the tiny couch, his body pressed against mine, kissing one another as often as we please.

His hands graze down my shirt, sending shivers up my spine. Then, one of his hands finds its way under my shirt and runs over my hipbone is, and I sigh louder than I should, which only makes him continue. Worry starts to set in. Should I let this continue to where I know it will end up? I don't know how to do any of this- but does he? Despite my doubts, I let it continue. He picks me up and places me gently down on the bed and climbs over top of me. My heart begins to race so rapidly that I'm afraid he might hear it. He begins kissing me softly, while using both of his hands to raise my shirt, inch by inch. I move my hands to the hem of his shirt and begin lifting his off as well. Then he says something that I'm not ready for.

"I love you," he says to me softly. His eyes are swimming in that blue color again.

I think about him, the boy with the bread, who would do anything for me. Thoughts begin consuming my mind, how much I want him right now, and how right this feels. That hunger that has been making an appearance more often than not as of late, is screaming at me. This is where I was supposed to end up, I think.

"I love you, more" I say back to him.

He keeps looking at me, into my eyes just long enough that I give him a tiny nod, followed by another small kiss. He removes my shirt and we blissfully make our way into the early evening.


End file.
